


Someone Special

by RosingsPark



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Blizzards & Snowstorms, Christmas, Christmas Smut, George Michael is rolling in his grave, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining Grantaire, Piningjolras, Road Trips, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:01:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21707131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosingsPark/pseuds/RosingsPark
Summary: The week before Christmas, Enjolras and Grantaire are reluctantly sharing a ride to a work event on the other side of the country. But when a snow storm hits, they are forced to take shelter in a hotel that has only one room available.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire, Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 264





	1. One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m incredibly honoured to announce that this fic has now been translated into Russian by @bousgii: https://ficbook.net/readfic/9222556

“How can it be this busy at this hour?” Grantaire was beginning to feel extremely grumpy. Not only had he unwillingly been roped into carpooling with Enjolras, but the traffic on the highway had come to a full standstill now. He folded his arms in front of his chest, shifting the seatbelt slightly because it was cutting into his chest.

“How would I know?” Enjolras answered curtly, tapping his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel and staring stoically out across the road. Grantaire didn’t know why Enjolras was so determined to keep his eyes on the road; he might as well have read an entire Tolstoy novel back to front, there was that little movement of the cars in front of them.

Grantaire turned the radio on, and Enjolras groaned. Grantaire had made the early mistake of connecting his Spotify to the BlueTooth speaker and blasting Wham’s _Last Christmas_. It had barely lasted until the first chorus before Enjolras angrily turned down the volume and told Grantaire not to touch his radio again. He had momentarily wondered whether this could be his Baby Yoda Moment, but he wasn’t sure Enjolras was in the right headspace for him to mess around with pop culture references.

“Don’t worry, Apollo, no Wham, this time.” He said soothingly, searching for a channel with traffic updates. Enjolras let out a low _hmmph_ , which Grantaire took for grudging assent.

“Because of the expected snowstorm, the A28 is much busier than normal at this time of year,” the broadcaster said with a ridiculously cheery voice. No doubt she was somewhere inside a warm studio, with a cup of hot tea at her fingertips. Grantaire had finished the coffee thermos several hours earlier. The broadcaster continued cheerfully, perhaps a little sadistically, “A big snowstorm is expected to hit us any minute now. You might want to avoid the A28 if you can, because it doesn’t look like it’s going to get better any time soon.”

“You don’t say,” Enjolras said, frowning at the radio.

The broadcaster was replaced by the dulcet tones of none other than George Michael.

Grantaire leaned over to turn down the volume, afraid of another outburst. But to his surprise, Enjolras shook his head and said, “Just leave it, I don’t care.”

If anything, it was perhaps a sign of how tired Enjolras was getting, and Grantaire looked at him, ever so slightly concerned for both their safeties. “Are you alright to drive?”

“I’m not doing a lot of driving right now, am I?” Enjolras ground out, his eyes remaining fixed on the road.

“I’m just trying to be helpful,” Grantaire said, falling back into his seat and looking out of the side window. They’d left the safe surroundings of the city three hours ago and excepting the occasional town sprinkled across the landscape, there was mostly an assortment of mossy-coloured pastures under a grey sky, and a _lot_ of cars surrounding them.

“What would have been helpful, was if you’d said no to coming on this trip.”

Grantaire’s mouth dropped open. “Are you kidding me? I wasn’t going to say no to my boss, was I? Besides, I didn’t know you were going to. Trust me, if I’d known…”

“Then you would’ve said no to him?” Enjolras asked, turning his head to the side and raising one eyebrow.

“Well, I might have,” Grantaire said, looking away. “You’re not the only one who’s allowed to hate this, you know.” He wasn’t going to tell Enjolras the real reason why he was so bothered to go in this work trip together.

“Yet here we are,” Enjolras said, his slender fingers still drumming on the steering wheel.

“Here we are,” Grantaire confirmed and he started humming along to _Last Christmas_. Maybe they hated each other. Hated how their respective offices faced each other with only a glass wall in between. A few tall potted plants didn’t do nearly enough to hide Enjolras from sight, and the result was that Grantaire could do rather a lot of staring.

Because it was becoming painfully obvious that it was turning into more than a passing lustful obsession, more than the result of a new human being shaking up the office. He didn’t know how the two of them were going to last the entire weekend without smashing in each other’s heads. Or, on Grantaire’s side, he was becoming increasingly worried he wouldn’t be able to prevent himself from fucking up and making some sort of move on him. Because that clearly wasn’t on Enjolras’ agenda. Enjolras, as Grantaire had come to know him over the past four months, had only eye for one thing, and that was work. He wasn’t one for dawdling at the coffee machine just a little too long. He had been only to three after work drinks in the entire time since he started. Grantaire felt that it was only fair to admit to himself that he was probably the reason why Enjolras had stopped attending those, after constantly questioning and provoking, and in short, driving him up the fucking wall. Honestly, he didn’t blame Enjolras. But still. Only three after work drinks was pretty dismal when their office had them about twice a week.

So now they were stuck together in a car on an unmoving highway in the middle of nowhere, heading out to a mediation course in some sort of remote town neither of them even knew. Their boss had played it cleverly, not revealing until the last possible moment that they were supposed to go together, and that they could use the company car to travel together. Grantaire meant what he said; if he’d had known, he might have said he wouldn’t go.

They were quiet for half an hour, _Last Christmas_ being replaced by _Santa tell me_ , and then by that 1984 Band Aid song. After a couple more Christmas hits, the radio switched back to _Last Christmas_ , to Grantaire’s utter delight. The landscape had already been growing greyer with impending snow, and as the song started playing, Grantaire noticed the first snowflake floating down onto the windscreen.

It took Enjolras a while to notice both _Last Christmas_ and the snowflake, and when he did, he let out a low groan. “Please, in the name of everything that is sacred, give me spring.”

“You’re not a winter person, then?” Grantaire asked, grinning.

Enjolras turned his head to the side and glowered at him. “How did you guess?” A tiny part of Grantaire thought that if they knew each other better, Enjolras’ dryness might have been a source of amusement, and they might’ve laughed at the absurdity of the situation together.

“I can’t believe I have to listen to this infernal song again,” Enjolras groaned.

“Temper,” Grantaire admonished. “It’s a great song. It’s a Christmas classic. Doesn’t it get you excited for Christmas?”

“Every year I hope Christmas gets cancelled, but so far I haven’t had any luck. Still holding out hope for this year, though,” Enjolras said. The car in front of them moved a couple of meters, and when Grantaire looked out of the window, he saw that the road beneath them was quickly growing white.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because Christmas is a capitalist tradition, and very little else.” Enjolras replied with an unspoken ‘ _duh_ ’ in his voice.

“Oh, come on,” Grantaire exclaimed. He leaned forward in his seat a little to better look at Enjolras. “Don’t give me that one as if it’s a new and creative standpoint. Can you not just enjoy a world illuminated by fairylights, endless hot chocolates, going out into the snow and then going back and taking a hot bath because your extremities have nearly frozen off?”

Enjolras did not respond and forwarded their car another couple of millimetres. George Michael was blaring in the background as Enjolras switched on the windscreen wipers to get rid of all the snow accumulating there.

Well, so, Enjolras wasn’t into fun, then. Grantaire fell back into his seat, feeling exasperated. He eyed his phone to check the time. Three o’clock. They had already been stuck in this car together since eleven o’clock – barring the occasional stop to use the bathroom - , and they still had about two hundred kilometres to get through. They just weren’t making any headway. He noticed a sign saying there was going to be an exit in five hundred meters.

“Hey, Enjolras, look at that. With any luck, we might make it to the exit within the hour,” he said, pointing out the window.

Enjolras shook his head. “I’m sure this will clear up any minute. We’d best stick to the plan, and hope we’ll make it in time.”

Hope we’ll make it at all, Grantaire thought to himself. In reply to Enjolras, he said, “I think there’s a better chance if we take a detour.”

Enjolras remained quiet, which Grantaire took for stubborn refusal of his suggestion, so he sighed and hummed along to _White Christmas_. “It _is_ beginning to look a lot like Christmas,” Grantaire said, grinning.

A lifted eyebrow. But was that also a quirk of the corner of Enjolras’ mouth Grantaire spied there? He would donate a considerable amount of money just to be in Enjolras’ brains for one minute. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to spend longer inside than that, because he thought there must be an overwhelming amount of thinking going on inside those brains of his.

The line of cars moved a little again, and Enjolras frowned as the wheels struggled slightly to keep their traction on the snowy surface. Around them, the world was fast turning white.

The music on the radio was interrupted by the same cheerful broadcaster. “It’s a _record_ , my dear people on the road. Avoid the A28 at all cost, because the traffic jam has been longer than ever before, and it doesn’t look like it’s going to get better any time soon with the weather as it is. Avoid the highway, find a detour, or better yet, stay inside unless you absolutely must venture outside.”

Enjolras glanced over at him, and Grantaire put on his most smug expression. Serves him right, he thought. It took them about thirty minutes to get to the exit, and another thirty minutes to actually get off the highway and onto a different road. It felt good to be moving again, even though Enjolras was still driving rather carefully and slowly. The snow was falling so hard now that the wipers were working overtime to keep the windscreen free from snow. Besides, it was turning dark and the road was crowded with people wanting to take the same detour. At this speed, they would arrive at their destination somewhere in the middle of the night.

Grantaire pulled up his phone. “Google Maps says you can also take a right there and you’ll get onto a parallel road to this one.”

Enjolras didn’t look up. “Let’s take that one, then.”

Grantaire was taken aback. Enjolras took his suggestion without a rebuff or a rebuke or whatsoever. He chalked it down in his mind as progress. They were getting somewhere. Instead of getting more annoyed, Enjolras had been getting less annoyed with him, the longer they spent together. He took that as progress, too.

After they had followed the new road for twenty kilometres, it started to become increasingly obvious that they had made some mistake. The broad, well-lit road had narrowed, so that one car could barely pass another, and the streetlights had disappeared. The only light they had was the light coming from the car’s broad headlights. Enjolras had slowed down to thirty kilometres per hour, careful not to slip in the snow.

Enjolras brow was set in a stern frown, part concentration, part irritation. Grantaire looked at his phone, but Google Maps was still insistent they were going in the right direction.

“Just go straight ahead,” Grantaire said, locking his phone and putting it down on his lap.

“Not really another option, is there?” Enjolras said, keeping his eyes peeled on the road, but using a hand to wave at their surroundings. All around them were pastures covered in white. There was not another car in sight. So maybe Google Maps wasn’t right, then. He glanced around. Well, there wasn’t room to turn the car, anyway. So they would just have to keep on going.

They drove slowly for another three quarters of an hour before reaching a tiny village. It was as though low, long farmhouses had been dropped into the land from the sky, dotting the landscape. The windows glowed with the light of fireplaces and Christmas trees and Grantaire could almost feel the warmth emanating from the houses. How he envied the people inside. He didn’t really feel his fingers. The car heater was blasting at full force, but it wasn’t enough to quell the deep-seated chill in Grantaire’s bones. The village was bathed in fairy lights and other decorations. It was Christmas heaven, or, depending on another point of view, Christmas hell.

“Enjolras,” Grantaire said. “Slow down here?”

Enjolras obliged and parked the car on the side of the road. He turned to Grantaire expectantly.

“You’re going to hate me for this, but I’ve got the feeling that somewhere in your heart or brain or wherever, you know it too. We’re not going to manage to drive all the way to that resort.”

Enjolras glowered at him, much as Grantaire had expected. But he remained quiet for a minute, clearly racking his brains for something, anything to get them back on the road again. But Grantaire could see the grey shadows under Enjolras’ eyes, and he knew that Enjolras wouldn’t be able to come up with anything convincing.

Apparently, Enjolras came to the same realisation. “Fine. What do you suggest. Bunk down with the farmers?”

“If they’re hot, sure,” Grantaire joked, grinning in the hope of lightening the mood.

Enjolras shook his head but didn’t look angry or offended.

Grantaire continued, holding up his phone. “There’s a hotel just besides the main square,” he said. “It doesn’t have a website, so I think we should just head over and see for ourselves? It’s not like we have much choice. It’s hardly safe to drive and we can’t sleep in the car.”

It pleased him to see Enjolras lost for words, his mouth opening and closing in rapid succession. “Alright,” Enjolras said finally. “But you’ll have to direct me.” He put the car back into gear and followed Grantaire’s instructions. It took them a good few minutes, but they arrived at last at what looked like a cross between a restaurant, a pub and a hotel. Enjolras parked the car and they stepped out. The snow crunched under their feet and Grantaire was surprised how far his feet disappeared from sight. It was still coming down heavily and he thought it unwise to look over at Enjolras, who was probably looking stunning with the snow falling into his curls.

They pushed open the door and found themselves in a moderately crowded restaurant. A woman, Grantaire guessed somewhere between fifty and sixty, her greying hair bound together in a braid that reached well beyond her waist, met them with a friendly smile. “Come on in, out of the cold, warm yourself, come.” She ushered them inside before asking if she could be of use.

“We got stuck in the snowstorm and we were wondering if you had a room for us.” Grantaire said, rubbing the life back into his hands.

“You’re lucky,” she said, her brows drawing together slightly. “I only have one room available. It’s the Christmas Fair this weekend, see?”

“How lovely,” Grantaire smiled. “I thought something was happening here. It looks so cozy outside. And we’ll take the room.”

She was obviously pleased with the compliment, as her cheeks reddened slightly and she was unable to keep a smile from her face.

“Wait a second,” Enjolras interrupted. “What kind of room do you have? I mean, is it two single beds or one double bed?”

The woman regarded him with slightly narrowed eyes. “It’s a double bed.”

“Oh, well then. Thank you for checking for us, but I think we’ll see if we can manage to drive just a bit further today,” Enjolras said.

“No wait there, Enjolras,” Grantaire immediately said, grabbing Enjolras’ arm. “We’re lucky enough that this hotel still has a room for us. Who knows when we’ll find one again and whether it’ll have free rooms? And anyway, I don’t think you’re safe to drive – no, not even if you drink an espresso, Apollo,” he added as Enjolras started to protest. “We’ll manage.” He turned back to the woman, who was watching them without any pretence at discretion. “We’ll take the room, thank you.”

Enjolras walked off, probably to sulk, as Grantaire fixed the details off the room with the lady. She told them she would keep a place open in the restaurant too, since they both looked like they could do with a good meal, and Grantaire thanked her profusely.

As soon as he got the key, he went off in search of Enjolras. He found him standing just outside the hotel, gazing at the snow and the lights hanging in the tree. “It’s very pretty,” Enjolras said out of nowhere.

“Hmm,” Grantaire agreed. “Look, I’ll sleep in the chair. We don’t have to share a bed if that’s what you’re uncomfortable with.”

“That is what I’m uncomfortable with,” Enjolras affirmed, turning to face him. His eyes were startingly dark.

“Well, good to know,” Grantaire muttered under his breath. Enjolras followed him to their car and they took out their suitcase and valuables without another word. Back inside, the woman led them to their room on the second floor, and told them they could come down any time before nine and she would make sure they would get properly fed.

Grantaire unlocked the room and pushed open the door after she left. It was a small box room, slightly outdated but very neat all the same. He put down his suitcase and noticed there wasn’t a chair, let alone a sofa. There was just a double bed. It felt as though it was staring at him, mocking him. Grantaire let his eyes fall to the ground. At least it was carpeted. It wouldn’t be a great sleep, but he was already stiff from sitting in the same way in the car all day.

Enjolras shrugged out of his coat, folded it across the chair and announced he would be taking a shower. Without giving Grantaire the chance to reply, he disappeared into the bathroom. Grantaire plugged his charger into a socket and left his phone lying on the nightstand. He sat down on the side of the bed after pulling a book out of his bag, and he read for a while until he heard Enjolras turn off the water. A few minutes later, he appeared wrapped in a large white bathrobe, his wet hair sticking to his forehead.

Grantaire swallowed.

“Do you mind if I take a shower too, before we go down to eat?” Grantaire asked. Too late, he realised that he was taking it for a fact that they would be eating together.

Enjolras shrugged. “Sure, you do you, I guess.” Grantaire let out a breath. God, it would’ve been awkward if Enjolras hadn’t wanted to get dinner together.

He rummaged around in his suitcase, retrieved a comfortable hoody and a clean pair of jeans before he headed into the bathroom and slowly peeled the layers off his stiffened body. He looked around. It was nearly the same size as the bedroom, with a separate bath and shower. The water felt amazing. It was as if he had never felt warmth before today. It spread through his veins and slowly, inch by inch, made his body feel moderately alive again. The only thing lacking was food, a beer and a good night’s sleep.

He snapped open his eyes at the thought. He already knew he was going to be having an awful night on the floor. Maybe he should’ve listened to Enjolras, maybe they should’ve driven on to the next village in search of two single beds. He hated his job, he hated his boss, he hated Enjolras, he hated himself. Why did life have to be so unnecessarily cruel as to bring all those different sources of hatred together and make it into one big event where he could make an ass of himself. He thought longingly of the hotel his work had booked for them. Four stars. Double-bedded rooms with jacuzzi’s in the bathroom for each of them. Just the thought of having some proper space to himself was heart-warming, let alone it being in a fancy hotel. But it didn’t look like he was going to be able to enjoy that this weekend. Instead they were stuck here together, in a tiny room with just the one bed. Christ, if that wasn’t a recipe for disaster.

Grantaire turned off the tap, towelled himself dry and dressed quickly. When he walked back into their bedroom – _their bedroom_ – Enjolras was sprawled on the bed in nothing but his bathrobe, and Grantaire swallowed. His wet hair looked much darker and straighter like this, and Grantaire had the irrepressible urge to lean over and push it back and then just fucking straddle him or something.

“I just got off the phone,” Enjolras said. “I called the organisation that’s hosting the course and I told them we’d be off tomorrow as soon as it was light. Do you know what happened next?”

By the furious expression on Enjolras’ face, something bad. “Go on, tell me.”

“They laughed,” Enjolras said, leaning the weight of his upper body on his elbows. “They actually laughed. They said this snowstorm is going to last for twenty four hours _at least_.”

“Fuck,” Grantaire let out.

“Well,” Enjolras said, scrambling out of the bed. Grantaire could see that the bathrobe was hitching up Enjolras’ thigh, and he willed it to go just a little further. “I won’t be spending my entire weekend here in the middle of nowhere.” The ‘with you’ was clear enough without him actually saying it.

“Yeah but if it’s not going to stop snowing, then –”

Enjolras interrupted him, raising his hand in the air. “We’ll just have to find a way.” He moved across the room and back into the bathroom to get dressed, which gave Grantaire a couple of minutes of thinking time. There were a few options, he thought. Then he shook his head. No, there weren’t a few options. There was only one option, but with a few different possible consequences. They weren’t going to get out of here before the snow stopped. He looked out of the window and saw that their car on the parking lot was hardly visible anymore, covered in snow as it already was. They would just have to deal with being here for at least twenty-four hours. With only each other for company. That was the one constant that he knew. What might happen during those twenty-four hours (and he really didn’t want to think about the possibility of it being longer than twenty-four hours) was open for discussion. Mainly, he wondered which of them would strangle the other first. Perhaps Grantaire should take matters into his own hand and strangle himself before he got it into his head to make a move on Enjolras. Christ, sprawled on the bed like that, anyone might think Enjolras was trying to be… seductive.

He shook himself out of his reverie as Enjolras appeared in a blue jumper and comfortable looking jeans. He hadn’t seen Enjolras this casual before; usually he wore well-tailored suits with immaculately pressed shirts. No matter how fond Grantaire was of a good uniform, he found that this new and slightly more casual version of Enjolras constricted the breath in his throat.

Without speaking much, they made their way downstairs into the restaurant, where a warm glow and a chatty buzz met them. The lady that helped them earlier smiled broadly at them. “I hope everything is to your satisfaction, boys?”

Grantaire didn’t have to look at Enjolras to know that his eyes had started twitching at being called a boy. They were led to a table for two in a windowed alcove, which looked out on long stretches of snowy landscape. If he wasn’t stuck here against his will with the man he was lusting on, he would have been delighted at how idyllic it all was.

Grantaire tried to order a beer, but the woman wouldn’t let him. “We’ve just finished mulling the wine, and if I do say so myself, it’s the best we’ve ever made. I can’t tell you what’s in it, obviously,” she laughed, “But you should try it, I insist. To get into the Christmas spirit and warm your insides.”

Ready to try anything, Grantaire agreed easily, and looked to Enjolras, who was looking a little more doubtful. Grantaire gave him a quick little nod, urging him to say yes. Enjolras’ expression softened and he actually smiled up at her and told her that would be really nice.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Enjolras hissed, “Boys”.

Laughter erupted from Grantaire’s throat as Enjolras continued. “I’m a thirty-two-year-old man. I’m not an infant.”

Grantaire’s laughter increased as _Last Christmas_ started playing in the restaurant, and Enjolras’ expression soured.

“I can’t believe that I’m stuck here in the middle of nowhere, being called a boy, _Last Christmas_ on repeat as if it’s the only song ever produced, being forced to drink mulled wine to ‘get into the Christmas spirit’. I don’t even want to get into the Christmas spirit.” Enjolras muttered, leaning his head in his hands and gazing out of the window.

“And your insides would be cold no matter the amount of mulled wine one poured into them, wouldn’t they?” Grantaire joked.

Enjolras snapped his head back angrily but was prevented from making a reply by the arrival of the mulled wine and the menus.

Grantaire inched closer to the steaming mug filled to the brim and inhaled its pungent sweetness. He touched his lips to the cup without lifting it and slurped. God, that was good. He let out something that was embarrassingly close to a moan. Enjolras’ eyes widened as he followed Grantaire’s movements.

“It’s good,” Grantaire said quickly. He could feel his cheeks redden and it wasn’t because of the high alcohol percentage in his drink. Did he actually moan in Enjolras’ presence? Jesus lord.

“That is evident,” Enjolras replied, not taking his eyes off Grantaire. Then, as if he’d shaken himself out of a reverie, he looked down at once to his menu and cleared his throat. “We should decide what we’re going to eat.”

The menu was surprising; Enjolras was halfway through a sentence about there probably not being any vegetarian options, when Grantaire pointed out something called ‘Farmer’s delight’, described as a stew of assorted vegetables and spices.

“How lovely and vague,” Enjolras said, closing his menu after a brief moment’s deliberation. “I’ll take it.”

“Me too,” Grantaire replied, turning over his menu to check the side dishes.

“You’re a vegetarian?” There was so much surprise in Enjolras’ tone that he looked up to meet Enjolras’ startled eyes.

He shrugged. “Yeah, I am. I have been for fifteen years. Why? Did you think I was a shouty meat man?” (he _was_ a meat man, but not like _that_ ).

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “No. I’m just. Well, I’m a little surprised, that’s all. Aren’t you going to put your menu down?”

“I will once I decide whether I’ll take the fries or the garlic roasted potatoes as an extra.”

Grantaire was never going to forget the words that Enjolras said next. “Let’s take both and share. Why not?” Enjolras added as confusion must have been plain on his face.

“Sure.” Grantaire put down the menu. Within seconds, returned to take their orders, swept off again and left them to each other’s company.

“It’s too catchy,” Enjolras groaned out of nowhere, after thirty seconds of absolute silence.

“What is?” he replied.

“ _This_ ,” Enjolras ground out, lifting his cup of mulled wine to his lips and taking a deep gulp. The wine left a vague red stain on his lips that Grantaire would’ve liked – no, nothing, he would’ve liked nothing of the sort. He should focus. In the background, _Last Christmas_ was still playing.

Grantaire started laughing again, and Enjolras looked grumpy. “I’m glad you’ve finally admitted it. Usually when someone says they hate something, it’s because they secretly can’t live without it.”

Enjolras raised an eyebrow, taking another sip. “That’s… not untrue,” he said.

Silence reigned again, but this time it felt a little more comfortable. Grantaire looked outside. The falling snowdrops bright against the night sky. “We could take a walk in the snow tomorrow,” Grantaire offered.

“But we’re leaving tomorrow,” Enjolras replied in a carefully even tone.

Grantaire looked at him, a disbelieving grin spreading across his face. “Either you’re relentlessly optimistic, or gallingly naïve.”

“I’m sure it’ll clear up.”

Grantaire shook his head. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

Two steaming bowls of vegetable stew arrived at their table. “I wasn’t eavesdropping but I heard you talking about the snowstorm,” she said, putting down their plates. “And I want you to know not to worry about the room. It’s free for another night so I won’t kick you out into the cold with nowhere to go.”

“You are too kind,” Grantaire smiled at her. “So it’s definitely not clearing up?” he said, glancing at Enjolras, who was looking mildly tortured.

“I’m afraid not,” she replied, wrinkling her face. “But you picked the perfect weekend, with the Christmas festival in the village. We’ve actually moved most of it into a large barn so it shan’t be cancelled,” her smile was bright on her face.

Enjolras actually, God forbid him, groaned. The lady frowned at him.

“I’m so sorry, he fell on his head as a child and he ended up without the Christmas gene,” Grantaire said apologetically.

“Well, I’m sure we can help him with that,” she answered. Picking up their empty cups, she returned to the kitchen to refill them and after she had brought them back, she wished them bon appetit, and disappeared.

Grantaire looked at Enjolras, who was staring into his stew a little forlornly. “Hey,” he said, softly, forcing Enjolras to look up. “It’s not ideal, but we’ll make the best of it. It can’t be much worse than that course we were going to.”

Enjolras gave a reluctant smile. “Thanks. I know. I just don’t really like it when I’m closed off like this without any options.”

“You work hard, Enjolras.” Grantaire said. “See it as a sort of holiday. Frolick in the snow. Drink mulled wine – this stuff is the strongest I’ve ever had, by the way. It’s delicious -, buy some ugly Christmas trinkets and local jams and whatever. Just enjoy it.”

Enjolras rolled his eye and dipped his spoon into his stew. “Fine. I’ll try. O God, this is really, really good,” Enjolras groaned, a blissful expression appearing on his face.

Grantaire followed suit and dug into his meal. Enjolras wasn’t wrong. It was perfectly spiced, the vegetables perfectly tender. He decided there and then that this was going to be in the top five of his favourite meals, at the very least. “This has already made this trip worth it,” Grantaire let out when he got back to his senses.

He quickly realised that he was ravenous, actually. They hadn’t eaten all that much on the road. They’d stopped early on for a quick lunch of prepacked sandwiches from the gas station. He had also had a couple of snacks, but nothing really substantial. He was happy for the food in his stomach because the mulled wine was so much stronger than he thought it would be, and he had already been drinking quite steadily. Enjolras too, was looking a little red in the cheeks, as he gulped down his food. The garlic potatoes and the fries were almost as good as the stew, and by the time they had finished their meal, they had already downed another glass of wine. When he got up, Grantaire realised he was a little unsteady to his feet, and that he was more than a little exhausted.

They both managed to find their way back to their room, even though Enjolras nearly slipped up the stairs. The room was cold in comparison to the restaurant downstairs. He wouldn’t have minded if only he could’ve slept under the covers; he preferred to sleep in fresh air. But on the carpet with only a thin fleece blanket for covers. He shuddered at the thought.

Enjolras slipped into the bathroom to dress for bed and brush his teeth, and Grantaire took the time to quickly undress in the room itself. He belatedly realised which T-shirt he had brought to sleep in, and he had only just pulled it over his head when Enjolras exited the bathroom.

“Really?” Enjolras cocked an eyebrow and grinned in disbelief.

“What? He’s the best artist _ever_.” Grantaire retorted.

“Yeah,” Enjolras replied, moving to flip the bedcovers and slipping under them. “But doest that warrant having George Michael’s lifesize face staring from your chest?”

Grantaire looked down. The shirt was well-worn and one of his better band shirts. “You’re just jealous, Enjolras.”

Enjolras surprised him by throwing him one of the pillows, which he only barely caught. He put it down on the floor, lay down and wrapped the blanket around him. He sighed. This would have to do for now. The thought that he would probably have to sleep on the floor another night was even more painful than the fact that he was here with Enjolras.

Enjolras must already have gone to sleep, because the room was eerily quiet within minutes, excepting Enjolras’ steady breathing. Grantaire tried one side for a couple of minutes, but his shoulder was pushing into the floor and it was already starting to hurt. He shifted to his other side, this time with his arm lifted and tucked under his pillow. For a few minutes, this was alright, until his lower back started playing up. He let himself fall onto his back and sighed deeply. Perhaps if he resigned himself to not sleeping at all, things would somehow get better and he would be able to fall asleep. A trick of the mind.

“Grantaire. Sleep here.” It was not a question or a suggestion. It was a command. Grantaire could hear Enjolras sit up in the bed and flip back the sheets in invitation.

“Are you sure?” Grantaire said hesitantly, pushing himself up from the floor. The room was too dark to see any expression on Enjolras’ face.

“You’ll be cranky tomorrow if you don’t. I’d rather sleep with you.” Enjolras instantly started stammering, while Grantaire could feel his face redden. “I didn’t mean sleep _with_ you, Jesus, I meant sleep in the same bed as you. Just –” Enjolras seemed to realise that further words were futile.

Grantaire stood up, retrieved the pillow and paddled over to the bed. Hesitantly he slipped into the covers. The bed was gloriously soft and he could feel the muscles in his back and shoulder rejoice. He immediately felt sleepy, encapsulated in the soft warmth of the bed and Enjolras’ radiating heat just beside him.

“Don’t worry, Apollo, I wouldn’t want to sleep with you either.”


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras loves mulled wine.

Was he dead? It almost seemed to him as if he was. This had to be heaven. He was surrounded by a soft warmth, and a steady weight clung to his side. Wait a second. A steady weight? In heaven?

He opened his eyes. A bright, blueish light shone through the cracks of the curtain into the room. Not wanting to disturb the weight at his side, he lay perfectly still and glanced around the room, in hopes of ascertaining whether it was heaven or some other place all together. He noticed his suitcase, spread open on the floor, and he remembered. They were forced to stay at a hotel in the middle of nowhere because of the snowstorm.

Grantaire did a double take. _They_. That meant that the warmth curled around his back was… He glanced down and saw a pale, slender hand resting on his abdomen, which was definitely not his own hand. He tried to shift ever so slightly, hoping that he would be able to twist his head enough to confirm this nightmarish suspicion. But as he turned slightly, the person curled around him let out a low moan and cuddled closer to him.

Grantaire felt his heartbeat quadruple, because that moan confirmed it. Enjolras, the actual human being variety, not the fantasised-too-often-about-in-the-privacy-of-his-own-bedroom-variety, was latched onto him like a koala. He, Grantaire, was the little spoon.

It felt as though his heart was going to explode from his chest and his breath was feeling a little raspy now. What was he going to do with this, then? He pinched himself in the arm, careful not to disturb the sleeping Enjolras. This was definitely real. He was definitely not having a dream; he was having a living nightmare. He would never be able to forget this. He would never be able to look Enjolras in the eye again. He would never – Enjolras nuzzled closer into him, the tip of his nose touching between Grantaire’s shoulder blades. Enjolras made a satisfied noise as he slid his hand over Grantaire’s abdomen.

Dear sweet Jesus, Grantaire thought, since it’s so nearly your birthday, please, please grant me some fucking peace. There was a burning in his groin that Grantaire fought to ignore, but that was pretty difficult while he could feel every part of Enjolras’ body close against him. Don’t, don’t, don’t, he told himself.

There were several things he could do. Firstly, he could slip out from under the covers and continue to sleep on the floor for a while. It was not ideal for a multitude of reasons. It would be sure to wake up Enjolras and he dreaded what might happen when Enjolras found himself spooning his sworn enemy. Besides, he really wasn’t keen on swapping the warm and soft bed for the hard floor. His second option, his only option, really, was to just fucking savour it and go back to sleep.

He pressed his eyes shut, wiggled a little to find a slightly better position, and willed his heartbeat to steady and the heat in his lower abdomen to reside.

When he woke up again, he was alone in the bed, and he was disoriented and a little sad without the steadying weight at his back. He flipped over and groaned a little, rubbing his eyes.

“Good, you’re up.” Enjolras voice sounded a little strange. Grantaire slowly pushed himself up on his elbows to look at him. His cheeks were slightly flushed and there was a scowl on his brow. He was folding a jacket and stuffing it into his suitcase resolutely.

“What are you doing?” Grantaire asked gruffly.

“We’re going.” Enjolras announced. “I can’t stand it here for one more hour.”

Grantaire slid from the bed frowning. He groaned a little as the cold air replaced the warmth of the blankets, and walked over to the window and pulled open the curtains. Outside, all was white, and the snow was still coming down.

“Well, have you seen this?” Grantaire said. He could hear Enjolras briskly striding over to the window.

“Great,” Enjolras breathed, turning away from Grantaire.

“Hey, I didn’t make it snow, no need to be mad at me.”

Enjolras turned and looked at Grantaire. “I’m not. I just really prefer to get out of here.”

Grantaire shrugged. “Well, I hate to disappoint you but that’s not going to happen just yet, unless you can fly us out of here. And I hardly think you want to be stuck in this hotel room all day, so let’s go down to breakfast at least and we’ll see after that.”

Enjolras still looked troubled, but he nodded eventually. “Fine.”

Grantaire hopped into the shower and let the warm water engulf him. He wondered whether Enjolras was aware that he’d been clinging to him like there was no tomorrow. Even if he did, Grantaire was sure he would never let on. Enjolras hated him. Why would he admit that during the night it had been as if his subconscious actually did not hate him at all. It wouldn’t help his tough anti-Grantaire attitude in the least. Grantaire resolved not to mention it either, however much he wanted to tease Enjolras with it. He wouldn’t mind bringing a blush to Enjolras’ cheeks by telling him that he knew that Enjolras was, in fact, a big fat softie. But telling him this would also involve letting Enjolras know that he had done nothing to push him away. And that would be telling in and of itself, and he didn’t even want Enjolras to have the tiniest suspicion about that.

They went down to breakfast, Enjolras notably silent. Grantaire thought that Enjolras must really, really hate being here with him. How on earth they were going to manage an entire day, or maybe even longer, together like this.

A buffet was stalled out on a long table next to the bar and the woman, Mrs Smith, Grantaire had learned, was bustling about with a large coffeepot. Sitting down at the same table as the previous night, they ate their breakfast in silence. Mrs Smith came up to them bearing two cups of coffee. As she put them down, she stared wistfully out of the window. “I was thinking of you two boys this morning. It hasn’t stopped at all, has it?”

Grantaire caught Enjolras’ eye when she called them boys again, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“No, unfortunately not,” Grantaire said. “I think we’ll stay at least for the rest of the day. Right, Enjolras?”

Enjolras nodded reluctantly.

Mrs Smith smiled broadly at both of them. “Good, so then you’ll come to the Christmas festival?”

Enjolras’ face was an amusing mixture of horror and resignation. “We can’t stay in our hotel room the entire day, so why not,” he said, rather to Grantaire’s surprise.

Mrs Smith looked absolutely pleased as she walked off to bring other customers their coffee and tea.

Grantaire raised an eyebrow at him. “I know your secret,” he said, grinning a little.

Enjolras eyes largened as redness spread across his face. “How? What do you mean?”

A little startled by Enjolras’ reaction, Grantaire put his coffee mug down on the table. “I was going to say that you were secretly a huge Christmas fan. But your reaction makes me wonder whether you haven’t got some skeleton in the closet somewhere. Who did you murder? Do you have a secret lovechild?”

Enjolras visibly relaxed. “I don’t have a child and I haven’t murdered anyone. Yet.” He added darkly.

“Alright, I promise to behave,” Grantaire laughed, finishing the last of his coffee.

Once they had finished their food, they went back upstairs and wrapped themselves in as many layers as humanly possible, before heading out the door. It was a bright day, nearly noon, and through the snowy clouds peeked a watery sun. Somebody had conveniently cleared the pathway from the hotel door to the barn where the Christmas market was being held, so it wasn’t too hard to make their way through the snow. There were already a lot of similarly attired people out and about, all trudging towards the market. 

“God, it’s freezing,” said Enjolras, who was walking beside him with his hands wrapped together in front of his mouth.

“You don’t do well in the cold, do you?” Grantaire answered, to which Enjolras lifted one eyebrow in reply. A snowflake landed on Enjolras’ nose, and he swatted it away with his gloved hand. “Well, I’m sure it’ll be warmer once we’re inside.”

“It’s a barn, Grantaire. I don’t know if you know it, but they’re not usually built for warmth.”

Grantaire shrugged. “Then that’s just a good excuse for copious amounts of hot chocolate.”

“And mulled wine,” Enjolras added.

“I knew you liked it,” Grantaire grinned. “It’s not normally so strong but I suppose that helps with bringing your body temperature up.”

“I suppose. I did feel a little groggy when I woke up though. We drank quite a lot of it. It was a weird night,” Enjolras said.

“Yeah, same. But the coffee and the fresh air is helping. I did sleep great, though. Thanks for letting me sleep in the bed too,” Grantaire said, and then, because he couldn’t resist, he added, “I hope I didn’t kick you or move to much or whatever.”

He could immediately see that Enjolras regretted bringing up their night in the bed. His cheeks were already red from the cold, but the colour heightened even more. Grantaire grinned a little as he shuffled carefully over the slippery path.

Enjolras cleared his throat. “No, no, I don’t think you did. You were out for the count as soon as your head hit the pillow,” he said, gazing across the village square. Grantaire wanted to tell him to be careful and to watch where he was going, but before he could, Enjolras’ foot slipped on a little ice, and he fell backwards as if in slow motion. Grantaire grabbed Enjolras’ upper arm but the downward force was too strong. Grantaire felt the world slip from under his feet, and then he was on top of Enjolras in an enormous heap of snow.

Oh Christ.

Grantaire gazed into Enjolras’ eyes. Enjolras stared back. For a second, there was little else in the world, and Grantaire thought he might as well be braindead, because he had absolutely zero capacity for thinking clear thoughts. The only thing he could focus on was Enjolras’ widened pupils and the fact that they were once again linked together from head to toe.

“I told you I wasn’t good with the cold,” Enjolras said, breaking the silence after what felt like eternities. He started squirming underneath Grantaire in an attempt to get up, so Grantaire followed suit and found his footing. He offered Enjolras a hand and pulled him up to his feet as well.

“Thank you. And sorry for that,” Enjolras said, blushing still. He beat at his arms and ruffled his hair in an attempt to get rid of the snow. Oh Christ, if only that hadn’t drawn Grantaire’s attention to the snowflakes amassed in Enjolras’ curls, he might have lasted through the day without much trouble at all. As it was now, he was going to end up having to shoot himself in the crotch, probably.

Both feeling a little awkward, they didn’t speak until they reached a barn. For something that had been moved there at the last minute, it was surprisingly elaborately decorated. After they bought their entrance ticket, they walked in. Enjolras groaned. The entire barn was filled with stands, shops and activities. Everywhere he looked there were bright-coloured Christmas trees. Fairy lights illuminated the space and gave it a warm kind of glow. Kids with Christmas hats running wild through the barn.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Enjolras said.

“Doing what,” Grantaire inquired innocently, a smile on his face.

“Being at a Christmas Fair. In the middle of nowhere. With you for company.” Enjolras ground out.

“Well, that’s a little rude, Enjolras. But luckily for you I’m in too much bliss to care too much about that. Do you want a hot chocolate?” Grantaire said as they walked past a promising looking stall. At Enjolras’ nod, he pulled out his wallet and paid for two hot chocolates spiced with a little ginger.

“Here,” Enjolras said, holding out a five euro note.

“What’s that for?” Grantaire asked. “No, you don’t have to pay me back for that. Just pay the next round and we’ll be fine. I know you don’t like me but at least let me buy you some chocolate.”

Enjolras frowned. “I do like you, Grantaire. Why would you think I didn’t?”

Grantaire’s mouth dropped open. “Are you kidding me? Yesterday you said being alone with me was a problem for you and now you’re saying – ” He shook his head in disbelief, wondering how it came to be that Enjolras was such a riddle. One he couldn’t solve for the life of him. The day before, Enjolras would have preferred driving all through the night in the worst snowstorm the country had seen in a decade in order to sleep in a different room than Grantaire, then last night he had been actually spooning him and now he was telling him he didn’t actually hate him. What was next, Grantaire wondered, briefly, hopefully.

“Well, I don’t hate you. I just – never mind, let’s go check out that stall.” Enjolras said, pointing at a stall with gaudy tree decorations. They walked over and found Christmas bauble in all absurd shapes and sizes imaginable. There was one of a type writer, a ginger cat, a bookcase and then – “Oh my god, Grantaire, look at this one,” Enjolras sounded excited and Grantaire leaned over his shoulder to see what he was looking at. It was – and Grantaire simultaneously wondered at how capitalism could have stretched so far _and_ thanked God that it had – a gaudy, glittery, multicoloured George Michael decoration to hang in a Christmas tree.

Enjolras had already pulled out his wallet and he was talking to the man behind the stall.

“Lovely, lovely,” said the stall owner. “Mrs Smith told me there was a lovely couple from the city in the village,”

“We’re not a couple,” Grantaire said (expertly keeping the edge of sadness out of his voice), at the same time as Enjolras exclaimed, “She told you we were a couple?”

The man looked unabashed, a slight amused smile still on his face. “We don’t mind that sort of thing here, boys.” He actually winked at him.

Grantaire looked at Enjolras, who had gone bright red, and frowned. Surely, the fact that people mistook them for a couple wasn’t that extremely awful, right? Grantaire found it quite amusing, actually, that Mrs Smith had not hinted it at either of them, but had proceeded to tell other people in the village. But here was Enjolras, looking like he was going to burst with shame. Grantaire felt put in his place.

He could see Enjolras blow out a steadying breath. “We just would like to get this.”

The man behind the stall seemed to catch Enjolras’ drift, because the amused expression disappeared from his face as he exchanged the money with Enjolras. He wrapped the bauble in old newspapers and handed it back to Enjolras, wishing them both a good time at the festival and a merry Christmas.

Enjolras was quiet as they left the stall. All around them people were chatting animatedly with each other, people who must have known each other for years and years. As they passed another group of people, he could feel their eyes on them, assessing, no doubt with Mrs Smith’s announcement in the back of their heads. Some women smiled kindly at him. All at once he was seized with the thought that in the city, people didn’t really know each other like this. He would like to be part of a community like this. Maybe he could even sell some of his paintings at a fair like this.

The hot chocolate was extremely delicious, and he was sad to finish it. Enjolras too seemed a little restored to health by it, as the redness in his cheeks had disappeared. They went for a round past the other stalls. Local jams, local pies, local preserved fruits, local cured meats, local embroidery. Everybody was kindness itself, letting them try an assortment of their produce. By the end of the row of stalls, Grantaire felt very pleased that he kept a tote bag in his coat pocket, because he had already bought a jar of lemon curd, pear and cinnamon jam, three different packets of flavoured tea, and Enjolras had done a similar splurge.

Putting it all in the bag, they arrived at a food stall and ordered several dishes at random. There were a couple of picnic tables set up next to it and Enjolras put all their food down as Grantaire went over to the next stall and ordered two big mugs of mulled wine from Mrs Smith.

“So they all think we’re a couple,” Enjolras said out of nowhere as Grantaire sat down on the bench next to him.

“I suppose so,” Grantaire said. “It’s a tiny village and there’s new flesh walking around. Naturally they need to know everything there is to know.”

“But it’s not even true,” Enjolras said.

“No, I know that,” replied Grantaire, rolling his eyes. He did know that. He had thought on it more often than he would _ever_ admit to anyone, least of all Enjolras. “But they got it into their heads because it’s much more interesting to have two boyfriends on a romantic weekend than two colleagues who hate each other who accidentally got snowed in.”

“I don’t hate you, I told you this,” Enjolras said, wiping the mulled wine residue on his lips off with the back of his gloved hand.

Grantaire wasn’t entirely sure he believed it and decided that ignoring this statement would be the best policy here. Beside him, Enjolras sighed.

“Are you warming up to Christmas?” Grantaire asked.

“Well, my body is still freezing. But am I starting to hate Christmas a little less? Then my answer is yes.” Enjolras replied. “But that’s probably partly due to my company.”

He was starting to get a little suspicious at all these kind words from Enjolras. What is it he wanted from him? He narrowed his eyes and looked at Enjolras closely. There was a slight flush on his cheek and the pupils of his eyes were dilated. Moreover, there was something on his mouth… it was almost a smile.

Grantaire leaned in slightly and Enjolras’ breath hitched. “Are you drunk?”

Enjolras’ face fell, and he looked away. “I’ve had half a mug of mulled wine. I’m not that much of a lightweight, thank you.” His voice sounded colder, more like the Enjolras he had known the past six months, and less like the Enjolras he had spent a nice morning with.

“I just thought… you’re being so nice…” Grantaire trailed off, suddenly feeling a little foolish. Enjolras was probably trying to placate him so that it would be easier to convince him to leave tonight rather than sleep here for another night.

“And I can’t be nice?” Enjolras looked at him, one eyebrow lifted.

“No, you can be, I’m sure. You just, you’ve never been particularly nice to me. That’s all.”

They were both quiet, staring into their mugs and slowly munching their food. Grantaire felt acutely aware that there was some sort of tension in the air between them. What was this alternate universe in which Enjolras was mad at Grantaire for not believing he could be nice? He stared out across the bustling barn, wishing for something to say.

“It is very Christmassy, isn’t it?” Enjolras said, laughing awkwardly.

“Yes.”

“The only thing I haven’t seen yet is mistletoe, but all other Christmas boxes are ticked,” Enjolras said.

“You’re right, there’s not a lot of mistletoe hanging around. I expect they don’t want to have to kiss their neighbours every time they take a step in the wrong direction. But I did see some hanging at Mrs Smith’s mulled wine stall,” he said, gesturing vaguely behind him.

Enjolras downed the contents of his mug and slammed it down on the picnic table. “God, I’m thirsty.”

“Eh, okay,” Grantaire said, a little confused at Enjolras’ erratic switching of the subject. “Do you want me to go and get you another?” He moved to stand up from the picnic bench.

Enjolras followed suit hastily. “I’ll come with you. We’ve finished eating anyway.”

“Sure,” Grantaire said hesitantly. They moved over to Mrs Smith’s stall, who looked delighted as soon as they appeared.

“Hello boys, come for another round? It’s good, isn’t it?”

“Very addictive, Mrs Smith, it’s amazing,” Grantaire put the mugs on top of the counter. He could feel Enjolras tense beside him. He would have to, gently perhaps, ask Mrs Smith not to call Enjolras a boy anymore, because he seemed to be taking it rather too much to heart.

“Well, will you look at that?” Mrs Smith said, an almost diabolical smile appearing on her face as she glanced at something hanging slightly over their heads.

Grantaire knew instantly, without having to look up. Hadn’t he just told Enjolras about the twig of mistletoe hanging at her stall? And now he was here, standing underneath it. With Enjolras. He couldn’t feasibly pretend to not hear Mrs Smith. He could feel his cheeks redden as he turned to look at Enjolras.

Enjolras was blushing as well, gazing up at the mistletoe.

“You’re a funny one, Mrs Smith,” Grantaire said, leaning forward to pick his refilled mug from the counter. “Don’t think I haven’t heard you’re going around telling people we’re a couple.” He handed one of the mugs to Enjolras and noticed that there was a frown on Enjolras’ face.

“Aren’t you?” Mrs Smith asked in surprise.

“No,” Enjolras said shortly, taking a step back so he wasn’t under the mistletoe anymore. “We’re not.”

Grantaire frowned at him. He had lost Enjolras. He really didn’t know what he was about anymore.

As Mrs Smith accepted his money, she smiled wistfully at Enjolras. “Well, who knows what the future holds, dear.”

They walked away, Grantaire more confused than ever. So was Enjolras angry that they’d been mistaken for a couple, or was he now disappointed that people were finding out they weren’t? Because the downturned angle of his mouth certainly suggested something along that line. But that would imply that Enjolras would want something like that, and Grantaire was still not entirely convinced that Enjolras didn’t hate his guts.

They walked in silence for a moment until suddenly they came to a quiet corner and Grantaire could hear Enjolras mutter to himself.

“Oh, _fuck_ it.”

Fuck what, Grantaire thought hazily, briefly. Until Enjolras pulled at his arm and swung him around so that they were facing each other. Grantaire nearly spilled his mulled wine. They were nearly the same height, his addled brain thought. He could stare perfectly well into Enjolras’ eyes. It would be perfectly easy to just lean in and see how their mouths would line up.

Suddenly, it became adamantly clear just how well that would work out. Enjolras, after an agonising couple of seconds, leaned forward, closed his eyes, and bridged the gap between the two of them.

Time stood still and there was very little oxygen inside his body. He wondered what was happening and why Enjolras was so close to him. Why all of a sudden, the soft warmth of his lips covered his own. Oh God, he had died, hadn’t he? This was heaven. He closed his eyes.

Enjolras pulled back as soon as their lips had touched, a shocked and hurt expression on his face. “Oh God," he exclaimed, face reddening. “I am so sorry – I thought… I’m _so_ sorry, Grantaire.” He put his gloved hands in front of his face and muttered indistinguishably.

The lack of Enjolras’ proximity seemed to shake him up out of his reverie like an electric shock. Had Enjolras just kissed him? There was quite a lot of evidence to suggest that he had. Except if it was a dream…

“Can you pinch me?” Grantaire said, after what felt like an eternity to him.

Enjolras dropped his hands. His face was red and anguished. “What?”

“Pinch me,” Grantaire repeated. He held out his arm and pushed up the sleeve of his coat.

Grantaire yelped in pain as soon as Enjolras obliged. “Enjolras?”

“Yes?”

He noticed that Enjolras still wasn’t looking him in the eye. “Did you just kiss me?”

“Yes,” was Enjolras’ muffled reply. “And I am so extremely sorry. I must have misread the signs and –”

Grantaire put a hand on Enjolras’ upper arm. “You didn’t misread anything.”

Enjolras looked up, finally. His eyes were shining and hopeful and Grantaire felt a powerful surge of something finding its way into his heart. He took a step closer, leaned in and kissed Enjolras. Now, for a second, it was Enjolras’ turn to freeze, before he had the presence of mind to respond to Grantaire’s kiss.

His lips were soft and so deliciously warm. Grantaire hadn’t realised how cold he had been until now. He took another step closer so that they were practically flush to each other – the third time today, Grantaire thought briefly. Enjolras sighed against his mouth and leaned in further, wrapping his arms around Grantaire’s waist.

It was a minute or two before they broke apart for breath.

“I told you I didn’t hate you,” Enjolras said.

“Not hating me is something entirely different than wanting to kiss me,” Grantaire replied, chuckling.

Enjolras shrugged and kissed him again. Grantaire took the opportunity to put one of his hands along the side of Enjolras’ face.

“I don’t hate you either,” Grantaire said.

They continued walking, their fingers instinctively intertwining. There was silence between them, but Grantaire didn’t mind. Enjolras had gone from not wanting to sleep in the same room as him to kissing him in the space of less than twenty-four hours. He would have pinched himself again, had it not been for the fact that his right hand was occupied with holding his mulled wine, and the left with holding Enjolras’ hand. Grantaire didn’t mind the cold. There was a warmth in his chest that was spreading all through his body, and he was pretty sure that it wasn’t the aftereffects of two mugs of very strong mulled wine.

Enjolras tugged at his arm and pulled him into a quiet spot and then they were kissing again. Was this what heaven felt like? Grantaire wrapped his free arm around Enjolras, who responded by smiling softly against his mouth. Grantaire’s heart was beating so fast that he thought it might explode out of his chest.

“I _really_ don’t hate you,” Enjolras whispered against his mouth, giving him tiny soft kisses.

Grantaire couldn’t hold back a soft little moan. “Why didn’t you say?”

“Why didn’t you?” Enjolras retorted, sliding his free hand over Grantaire’s back. Grantaire pulled back a little so that they could look each other in the eye.

Grantaire lifted an eyebrow. “You first,” he said, taking a sip of his wine without breaking eye contact.

Enjolras sighed. “I thought you would never like me back. You were so rude to me when I first started out that I thought you must really hate me. But yesterday and today I thought that all must have been an act or something because you were suddenly so nice, I guess? So I thought perhaps I had a chance after all.”

Grantaire nodded as Enjolras spoke. Perhaps he had been a bit of a dick. His attempts at humour were often an acquired taste or a difficult language that only very few people were able to understand. “I’m sorry for that, I never meant to be an asshole.”

Their mouths were linked together once more, and this time, their kiss felt different. The tentative exploration of each other’s lips, of their warmth and softness, were a thing of the past. Grantaire could feel Enjolras push his body closer to him, and Grantaire, putting down his mug, responded in kind. He gently pushed Enjolras’ mouth open until their tongues touched. The kiss got deeper and Enjolras moaned slightly as Grantaire slid his hands ever so slowly down Enjolras’ back. Finally his hands found the firm curve of Enjolras’ ass and he pulled him even closer, so that their bodies were now flush together.

It was hot and wet and breathy, and he could feel the heat radiate off Enjolras’ cheeks as he bit back a moan in the back of his throat. Having Enjolras so close to him did things to him that were probably very inappropriate considering the fact that they were at a Christmas fair in the middle of nowhere, with people who might notice them anytime.

“God, Grantaire,” Enjolras moaned, far too loud, as Grantaire was kissing his jawline and his neck.

Grantaire abruptly broke away from Enjolras – who whimpered at the loss of him – and glanced around. The alcove where they had been standing for God knows how long, was a little way from the path everybody was walking, but it would only be a matter of time before anybody saw them going at it like animals.

“R, please,” Enjolras muttered, tugging at his scarf. Grantaire could only give in and dove at his mouth again, kissing him so hard that he pushed both their bodies even further into the alcove until Enjolras was leaning against the wall.

Enjolras’ hands were everywhere, caressing his biceps, then moving on to his chest and continuing to go lower and lower. Grantaire felt as though he was being driven crazy. Making out in public like a horny teenager. Well, horny he most certainly was. But he wasn’t a teenager by a long stretch, and he should definitely know better. It was just that Enjolras’ touch was so deliciously electrifying, and he had wanted this for so long that he was afraid to jinx it if he stopped now. But as Enjolras hands hovered temptingly over the front of his jeans, Grantaire abruptly pulled away.

Too abruptly. A frown appeared on Enjolras’ brow as Grantaire took a step back and let out a shaky breath.

“What are you doing?” Enjolras asked.

“We can’t be doing this.” Grantaire said, realising too late that that came out as entirely the opposite of what he meant. Enjolras face dropped and he took a step forward to push past him.

“Fine. If that’s how you feel.”

Grantaire put a hand on Enjolras’ arm, holding him back. “No, no, that’s not what I meant. Not like that.”

Enjolras turned around and faced him again. With his arms folded in front of his chest and a scowl on his face, he asked, “What do you want, then?”

Grantaire thought it wise to not go nearer to Enjolras just right now, as there was a death glare in his eyes and every word Grantaire uttered and every move he made might prove lethal.

“I meant not here, not like this.” He waved an arm around and Enjolras’ expression softened a little as he too seemed to realise that they were making out in a very public place.

Grantaire took a fraction of a step forward. “Do you, I mean… Would you be opposed to going back to the hotel? With me?” He was suddenly feeling very nervous and he didn’t dare to look at Enjolras right now. “I mean, we could continue this somewhere in privacy? If you like?”

Enjolras’ reply was to step forward and kiss him.


	3. Three

They stumbled up the stairs. Tipsy and giggling, stopping every other step to lunge at each other’s mouths. It took them ten minutes alone to reach the door to their room, and another ten minutes before they had the presence of mind that it might be better to continue kissing inside. Grantaire fumbled for the lock, his hands shaking slightly. His brains were a chorus of _I’m kissing Enjolras, I’m kissing Enjolras._

There was an awkward silence as they entered the room and Enjolras shut the door behind them. It was cold in here, and it had a sobering effect on Grantaire. He looked at Enjolras. “Oh my god, what are we doing?”

Enjolras paled. “I thought that was obvious? Do you not want to be doing that?” He folded his arms in front of his chest.

“God, no, not at all,” Grantaire rushed to say, feeling heat reach his cheeks at the thought of continuing. Then he did a double take. “Wait. Do you?”

Enjolras answered by taking a step forward and took hold of Grantaire’s scarf, pulling the both of them close together. Enjolras put his mouth on Grantaire’s, and Grantaire was quite sure he had died and ended up in heaven. There was no other explanation for this situation in which they were suddenly flirting and then kissing and then… who knew what would happen then.

Enjolras softly bit Grantaire’s lip and Grantaire let out a low moan. “I think that answers your question, doesn’t it?” said Enjolras, breaking free of Grantaire’s lips.

Grantaire whimpered. “Kiss me again.”

“Please?” Enjolras demanded, his lips just out of Grantaire’s reach. The fiery gaze in Enjolras’ eyes went straight to Grantaire’s cock.

“Kiss me again, please. Please, Enjolras,” he ground out, and he let out a sigh of relief as Enjolras’ lips found his again. Enjolras really knew how to kiss, Grantaire’s addled brains thought. He must really ask him sometime where he learned this technique (and then send them a thank you note), or whether he was just a natural. He let his head fall back as Enjolras moved from his lips to kissing his cheek, then along his jawline and in the hollow of his neck.

“You’re wearing too much,” Grantaire whimpered, tugging at Enjolras’ coat.

Enjolras drew back, his eyes hungry. “So are you,” he replied.

Not breaking eye contact, they both shrugged of their coats and scarfs and gloves before crashing their mouths together again. Grantaire grabbed Enjolras waist as Enjolras slid his hands into Grantaire’s hair. Their kiss got deeper and more erratic. Grantaire felt like his heart was about to beat out of his chest. He pushed Enjolras’ lips apart and slid in his tongue. Enjolras let out a moan before meeting Grantaire halfway.

Enjolras took a step backwards in the general direction of the bed, pulling Grantaire with him. It was as if they were on some sort of telepathic level as Grantaire adjusted the direction and steered them towards the bed. They broke apart only so that Enjolras could fall onto the soft mattress. Grantaire took a second to admire the view. Enjolras flushed, his pupils dilated and his jeans obviously getting a little too tight. It was magnificent to behold, better than any painting ever made in the world. This was his favourite view ever.

He moved closer and climbed on top of Enjolras lap. The close contact felt delicious as Grantaire bent over him and started kissing him again, slow and deliberate, showing him who was boss. He wanted Enjolras reduced to a puddle of human being beneath him, and he was managing perfectly fine by the soft moans escaping from underneath him. He slid his hand into Enjolras’ soft curls – marvelling for a second that he was finally allowed to do that now – and hardly managed to bite back a moan. 

Suddenly, Enjolras lifted his right leg and hooked it around Grantaire’s, and then he expertly rolled them around so that now Enjolras was the one sitting on top and being allowed to turn Grantaire into a puddle. The sight of it was almost too much for Grantaire, who suddenly wanted nothing more than getting Enjolras naked.

“Off.” He demanded, tugging at Enjolras blue jumper. He loved that jumper on him. They would have to do it sometime with Enjolras still wearing it. But for now, he was much too eager to be able to see and feel and taste everything that he would’ve taken a pair of scissors to it if need be.

Enjolras obliged, and then took of the shirt he was wearing underneath as well, revealing his soft skin, the strong shoulders. Grantaire could hardly breathe as he sat up and reached for Enjolras’ mouth again. But Enjolras pulled back. “You undress, too.”

Grantaire didn’t have to be told twice. They were really doing this. He forced himself to breathe steadily as he pulled his hoodie over his head.

Enjolras laughed as George Michael came into view. “Take that off, too.”

As soon as Grantaire’s chest was bare, Enjolras stopped laughing. Instead, his eyes went even wider as he traced the lines of ink across Grantaire’s upper arm. He put his finger to them and traced its circumference. Then, he let his finger wander towards Grantaire’s chest, dragging it slowly across his nipple, eliciting a moan from Grantaire.

His hips bucked up slightly, eager to be closer to Enjolras. “God, if you keep doing that, I’m going to come in my jeans.”

“We can’t have that. Not this time, at least,” said Enjolras, grinning. He leaned down and took Grantaire’s face in his hands, kissing him very slowly, their lips barely touching. “You’re beautiful,” he said quietly.

Even though the room was freezing, Grantaire’s heart was warm, and he reached for Enjolras, and kissed him with all that he had. They were both still sitting upright, and the space between them was perfect for Grantaire to reach his hands to the front of Enjolras’ jeans and undo the belt, ever so slowly.

“Jesus,” Enjolras groaned, getting off from his lap, nearly ripping the belt from his jeans and in one smooth movement, taking them off and dropping them on the floor. His white briefs were tight across his crotch and Grantaire could see a him distinctly. God, he desperately needed to touch him. He slid over across the bed so that he sat right at the edge and reached around with one hand, pulling Enjolras closer to him by his firm ass. He looked up at Enjolras with hungry eyes, searching for permission. He could see Enjolras swallow, and then nod. There was no going backward from this moment. From now, all time would be distinguished by before this and after this. Grantaire reached for Enjolras with his free hand and touched him through his briefs. He was so hard already. The thrill of it sent electricity through Grantaire’s body.

Enjolras let out a low moan as Grantaire started stroking him softly, teasing slightly, touching as much as possible. Then, feeling daring, he moved his head forward and moved his lips across his length. He desperately wanted to wrap his mouth around the real thing. His other hand was still on Enjolras ass and he used it to pull him a little closer. He glanced up, and he could see Enjolras flushed face staring anxiously down at him.

“R, you don’t have to – not if you don’t want to,” he managed.

Grantaire lifted his eyes in disbelief. “Don’t want to? I don’t think there’s anything else in life I want besides this. Do you want this?”

Enjolras let out a shaky breath. “I want.”

Stroking him one last time through his underwear, Grantaire hooked a finger at its waistband, and slowly pulled it down. As Enjolras cock came into view, Grantaire thought he might burst if he didn’t put his mouth on it soon. Just as the rest of Enjolras, it was perfection, and it was practically begging to be touched. Gingerly, Grantaire put his tongue to the tip of him, and Enjolras let out a moan, louder this time.

“Sssh,” Grantaire admonished, grinning up at him before putting his mouth over him. He put one hand at the base of Enjolras’ cock, steadying him as he took as much of Enjolras in his mouth as possible. His other hand slid around to cup Enjolras’ firm backside. He started moving up and down, slowly, taking his time and savouring the silky feeling of him in his mouth. God, he already knew that this was going to be his favourite activity in the world from now on.

Enjolras let out a stifled moan and Grantaire glanced up, his mouth still sliding up and down Enjolras’ length. Enjolras was biting on his fist, holding back the noise, and met Grantaire’s eye. Grantaire took Enjolras’ cock out of his mouth and blew a little on it before licking its underside, never once breaking eye contact with Enjolras.

“Fuck, Grantaire, you should stop.” Enjolras said, leaning down and pulling away from Grantaire to let his underwear drop to the ground and step out of it. “I need you naked, now.”

It was not a question; it was a demand. He felt the emptiness of his mouth sorely as he managed to push himself up from the bed. His legs and hands were shaking as he fumbled with his trousers.

“Come here,” sighed Enjolras, expertly opening Grantaire’s trousers and letting them drop to the ground. “These, too.” He said, pointing at Grantaire’s briefs. He obliged immediately. He was already well past the point of feeling self-conscious, and it did much for his confidence when Enjolras mouth dropped open at the sight of him.

Enjolras put a hand to his chest and urgently pushed him back onto the bed, following suit and climbing on top of him. They were kissing again, this time with a hunger more urgent than before. Grantaire reached a hand between their bodies and aligned their cocks so that they slid together in delicious ecstasy. Enjolras moaned again, throwing his head back. Grantaire immediately reached up and kissed the hollow of Enjolras’ throat.

“They’ll hear you,” he whispered against Enjolras’ neck.

“Who cares,” Enjolras ground out as he pushed Grantaire flat on the bed. He sat up straight, his legs on either side of Grantaire’s, and looked down at the sight of both their crotches together. It was a thing of beauty to Grantaire when Enjolras reached down a hand and started stroking Grantaire, softly and gently first, but becoming steadily messier and more erratic. “Christ, I need – ” Enjolras let out, sliding off Grantaire’s lap and sitting down on his knees on the carpet. He pulled at Grantaire’s legs so that he was on the edge of the bed again, and without a word, enveloped Grantaire’s cock in the warmth of his mouth.

“Fuck,” Grantaire groaned. He thought he might explode as Enjolras tongue moved up and down along the length of him. “Holy shit. You’re really good at this, Enjolras.”

Enjolras released him and Grantaire whimpered. “Not as good as you.” Enjolras said, meeting Grantaire’s eye, and flicking his tongue across the tip of Grantaire’s cock. It was too much.

“I – I,” was the only thing Grantaire could mumble. He sat up and pulled Enjolras to his feet. “I need to –”

Their mouths crashed together again and Enjolras reached in between their bodies again.

“I want to –” Grantaire moaned as Enjolras stroked him. “But I haven’t brought anything.”

“I have,” Enjolras whispered. He let him go and the absence of him felt excruciating to Grantaire.

Enjolras moved over to his suitcase and bent down, affording Grantaire a marvellous view of his backside. A minute later, he had returned with a bottle of lube.

“Do you carry that everywhere you go?” Grantaire grinned at him as Enjolras wrapped his arms around him again.

“Only if I hope to be fucked by you,” Enjolras replied, calm and collected. Meanwhile, Grantaire’s brains were nearly melted.

Grantaire swallowed. “Jesus, Enjolras.”

“Is that a good thing?” Enjolras asked.

Grantaire put his hands on the small of Enjolras’ back and guided him towards the bed again. “That’s a very good thing.”

They pushed back the covers and Enjolras lay down in the middle of the bed, his legs spread, and a blissful expression written across his face. Grantaire took a second to admire the view and let out an unsteady breath as he climbed onto the bed and sat between Enjolras’ thighs.

He uncapped the bottle and put a generous amount of lube on his hand. He reached forward and touched between the folds of Enjolras ass, leaning slightly over him and pressing a kiss on his lips.

Softly, gently he circled his entrance before pushing a finger in slowly. Enjolras let out a soft groan, and Grantaire covered his mouth wish his own, sliding his tongue over Enjolras lips as his finger worked inside of Enjolras, gently opening him up. He withdrew his finger to Enjolras’ displeasure, added some more and pushed in a second finger. Enjolras let out a low moan. “Fuck.”

He was working up a steady rhythm, and Grantaire sat back to watch the spectacle. Enjolras had his eyes closed and his cheeks were burning with pleasure as he panted softly, squirming at Grantaire’s touch. “More,” came his demand, and Grantaire obliged happily. He leaned forward and kissed up and down Enjolras’ chest, flicking his tongue across one of Enjolras nipples as his fingers beat in and out of him.

“Fuck, Grantaire, just fuck me already.”

Grantaire’s mouth dropped open and their eyes met. Enjolras was deadly serious and Grantaire withdrew his fingers and readjusted his body. For a second, he moved his hips so that his cock slipped over Enjolras, making him moan again, and then he retrieved the bottle of lube.

“No, let me do that.” Enjolras took the bottle from him, squirted a generous amount of lube on his hands and reached for Grantaire. The cold was a slight shock for Grantaire, but Enjolras worked up a steady rhythm, making him slick and wet and ready for him.

“Are you sure?” he asked Enjolras, forcing him to look up into his eyes.

Enjolras eyes were burning with desire. “Yes, yes, _please_ ,” he begged.

When he could barely hold it any longer, he pushed Enjolras’ hands away and aligned his cock, and pushed in, slowly, steadily deeper, and deeper, until he was fully enveloped within Enjolras.

“Fuck,” he let out a shuddering groan as he let their bodies adjust. His face was at the same level as Enjolras’ and he kissed him softly. “Enjolras –”

There was no need for words. Enjolras reached up ever so slightly to better be able to kiss him back. Their tongues slipped over each other, slick and wet and delicious. Grantaire pulled back ever so slightly, and then moved his hips forward again, his mouth not leaving Enjolras’ lips.

Next time, his thrust was a little harder, a little deeper. He did his best to stay gentle, but the truth of the matter was that just being inside of Enjolras was driving him mad. He slid back again so that only the tip of his cock was inside of him. Enjolras whimpered and clawed at his back, pulling him towards him. Grantaire obliged and slid home, both groaning. After this, his thrusting became harder, hotter, more desperate. Enjolras pupils were widened with desire as he slid his hand in Grantaire’s hair to pull his mouth closer to his. Grantaire stopped moving for a moment and squirted lube on his left hand. Then he leaned on his right arm and moved his other hand between them, moving it up and down Enjolras’ length as he started thrusting inside him again.

“Oh, fuck,” Enjolras let out, probably loud enough for everyone in the hotel to hear. Grantaire didn’t care. Let them know that here the best sex of the universe was taking place. Let them be jealous.

Grantaire moved in and out, faster and faster and his breath was growing more unsteady. Enjolras was digging the nails of his left hand into the small of Grantaire’s back, and reached his other hand in between them to, wrapping it around Grantaire’s. Both their hands slid up and down Enjolras’ cock with increasing speed.

“Oh, God, Grantaire, I can’t –”

Grantaire bit down a moan and pushed harder and deeper, dragging his hand up and down the length of Enjolras until suddenly Enjolras clenched around him and his head fell back onto the mattress. He cried out in pleasure as he spilt his seed all across his stomach.

Grantaire wanted to cry at the sight of it, and with one deep thrust, he came inside Enjolras with a groan. “Fuck, Enjolras, fuck.” He leaned over him and kissed him with a desperation he hadn’t known was in him, until his breath started to become steadier. When he pulled back, Enjolras had his eyes closed, a blissful expression written across his features.

“Oh God, Grantaire,” Enjolras whispered, panting, “that was amazing. You were amazing.” 

It was nearly enough to get Grantaire going again. “You’re not so bad yourself,” he said, as he pulled out of Enjolras and lay down beside him, willing his heart to slow down a little.

They must have fallen asleep, because when Grantaire opened his eyes again, the room was fully dark, and they were both lying naked on top of the bed. It had grown cold and Enjolras had curled round him again. Grantaire reached for his phone and checked the time. It was only eight o’clock.

He nudged Enjolras arm, until he sleepily opened his eyes. “What is it?” he whispered, his hand moving slowly across Grantaire’s abdomen.

“We fell asleep,” Grantaire explained. “Do you want to go and get some food? It’s not too late, I think.”

“We should bring it up here. I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep my hands off you if we go downstairs.” Enjolras played with the trail of hair on Grantaire’s lower belly.

Grantaire grinned. “Alright. We’ll have a dinner party here. What do you want?”

Enjolras pushed himself off and turned on the bedside lamp. “I’ll go down and get a little bit of everything. You can stay here. You did all the hard work.” He reached over Grantaire and kissed him before scrambling out of bed. Their clothes were in a pile on the floor, and Enjolras pulled on his jeans without bothering to put on anything underneath. Then, he reached back into the pile and retrieved Grantaire’s T-shirt and pulled it over his head. He moved back to the bed and kissed Grantaire again, his tongue flicking out just a little. Grantaire wanted to pull him back into bed with him and do unmentionable things to him, but before he could, Enjolras had slid out the door.

Grantaire lay back and stared at the ceiling. Holy fucking shit. He had just fucked Enjolras. He had been inside him and he had licked him and sucked him and bitten him and – he felt himself harden again at the memory of Enjolras hot mouth around him. Was it all a dream, he wondered? He tried pinching himself again, but this was definitely not a dream. This had definitely happened. Somewhere along the way they had gone from disliking each other to screaming out each other’s name in pleasure. Grantaire wasn’t sure how. He knew this wasn’t some drunken thing. They had had less than the night before and they might have been tipsy, but certainly not drunk enough to warrant a ‘I’ll just fuck anything that comes in my way’ type of behaviour. Which lead him to believe that Enjolras had actually wanted to have sex with him. He remembered Enjolras saying he had been hoping it, that he had packed the bottle of lube with that thought in mind. That must mean that Enjolras had wanted him even before they were snowed in together. He briefly considered all the time they must’ve wasted.

Enjolras returned after about half an hour, announcing himself by nudging at the door with his foot. “Can you give me a hand, R?”

Grantaire moved to open the door, forgetting for a second that he hadn’t dressed at all, and was only reminded when he saw Enjolras’ eyes flash with lust as he came into view. That would have to wait.

Enjolras had come bearing various dishes. Some of the stew they had the day before, a bowl of potatoes, some roasted carrots and a thermos flask of mulled wine. Grantaire wrapped himself in a dressing gown and they both sat down on the carpet together, chatting and eating and stealing kisses. The mulled wine was enough to heat their bellies.

After dinner, Enjolras suggested taking a bath together. “Why not? It’s big enough.”

Enjolras certainly wasn’t wrong. Most of the hotels Grantaire had ever been to had tiny bathtubs, but this one would easily fit the both of them. They put their dinner things away, resolved to return them downstairs in the morning.

After Enjolras returned from turning on the tap, he pulled Grantaire towards him and kissed him. He pulled at the rope of his bathrobe and ever so slowly slid it off him, leaving Grantaire standing naked and exposed. He quickly took a step closer to Enjolras and revelled in his warmth.

“I thought we were going to take a bath.” Grantaire murmered against Enjolras’ lips.

“We are,” Enjolras replied.

“No we’re not, we’re kissing,” said Grantaire, his hands disappearing underneath Enjolras’ shirt, caressing his soft skin.

“I wasn’t aware those were mutually exclusive,” Enjolras answered, grinning against his mouth. He pulled free and reached to pull the shirt over his head. Grantaire dived for Enjolras’ chest, kissing, licking, softly grazing his teeth across Enjolras’ pink nipples.

“Fuck,” Enjolras groaned softly. As Grantaire teased him, he moved his own hips upward, his hardening cock sliding against Enjolras’ thighs. Then, without a warning, he pulled back.

Enjolras’ eyes flew open. “You tease.”

Grantaire shrugged. Enjolras face was flushed, part arousal, part annoyance. He felt pleased. “Let’s get in.”

He was the first to step into the warm water and he made himself comfortable on one side, spreading his legs to accommodate for Enjolras, who followed suit.

They stared at each other, both seeming surprised at how surreal this all was.

“So, how long…” Grantaire trailed off. 

“Since that time we went to the café after work and you made some stupid kind of joke at my expense.”

“That made you want this?” Grantaire sounded doubtful.

Enjolras nodded. “It made me realise I wanted to fuck that grin off your face.”

“I don’t think your bluntness will ever stop turning me on,” Grantaire said, swallowing. “But here we are, I fucked _you_.”

“Well, it doesn’t look like we’re leaving this place any time soon,” Enjolras. A slow smile spread across his face.

Grantaire returned the smile, but there was a nagging feeling of something in the back of his mind, and he needed it to be spoken, even if it would be the death of him.

“Enjolras?”

“Grantaire?”

“I may be about to fuck everything up, what’s new,” he added, laughing a little. He scrunched up his face and said, eyes closed, too fast, “But is there any chance, any at all, that there’s something else than sex you want?”

When Enjolras didn’t respond, he slowly opened one eye to see whether his words had elicited any reaction at all.

Enjolras was staring at him. Fuck.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Oh, God, I _have_ fucked it all up now, haven’t I?” He made to move out of the bath, but realised that he was all naked. Feeling suddenly self-conscious in the presence of somebody who was sucking his cock only two hours ago. Well. Oh, it was great while it lasted. He closed his eyes and dragged a hand across his face with a dejected sigh.

Suddenly, the water splashed and he could feel Enjolras moving through the bath. He must be taking advantage of the fact that Grantaire’s eyes were closed to get out. Figures. He just hoped it would be over soon.

Then, Enjolras pressed his mouth to his, so softly it nearly hurt.

“You haven’t fucked anything up,” Enjolras said. He kissed him again, his lips firmer now.

“But do you?” Grantaire asked, pulling away anxiously. “Want more, I mean.”

Enjolras pulled back and looked him straight in the eye. “I do. And I’m sorry. I thought that was obvious, earlier.”

Warmth bloomed across Grantaire’s chest and he leaned forward to catch Enjolras’ face with his hands and pull in him for a searing kiss.

Enjolras drew back suddenly and leaned over the side of the bathtub, rummaging in his jeans pockets.

“What are you doing?”

Enjolras didn’t reply. A few moments later, he slid back into the bathtub, a wide grin appearing on his face as the opening notes of _Last Christmas_ filled the bathroom.

“Oh Christ, I take it all back,” Grantaire said, “I _hate_ you and I want nothing to do with you.”

Enjolras just smiled, leaned forward, and kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for going on this wild ride with me! I wasn't in time for Christmas posting, but I figured with the content of this chapter being what it is, you guys wouldn't mind.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this during NaNoWriMo and it got me out of my writer's block. I'll try my best to ensure everything is added and posted before it's actually Christmas.


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